You should leave us to guefs at your blushing, And not speak the matter too plain; "Tis ours to be forward and pufhing; 'Tis yours to affect a disdain.

That you're in a terrible taking
From all your fond oglings I fee;

But the fruit that will fall without shaking
Indeed is too mellow for me.

SIR W. YONGE.

W

HEN first I fought fair CÆLIA's love,

And ev'ry charm was new,

I fwore by all the Gods above

To be for ever true.

'But long in vain did I adore,

Long wept and figh'd in vain;

She ftill protefted, vow'd, and fwore
She ne'er would eafe my pain.

At

At laft o'ercome fhe made me bleft,
And yielded all her charms;
And I forfook her when poffeft,
And fled to other's arms.

But let not this, dear CELIA, now
To rage thy breast incline,

For why, fince you forget your vow,

Should I remember mine?

SOAME JENYNS.

ORINNA coft me many a prayer,

CORIN

Ere I her heart could gain,

But the ten thousand more should hear
To take that heart again.

Despair I thought the greatest curfe,
But to my coft I find

CORINNA'S Conftancy ftill worse,

Moft cruel when too kind.

How blindly then does Cupid carve,

How ill divide the joy,

Who does at firft his lovers ftarve,
And then with plenty cloy..

A

LL my paft life is mine no more,
The flying hours are gone;

Like tranfitory dreams given o'er,
Whofe images are kept in store
By memory alone.

The time that is to come, is not;
How then can it be mine?

The prefent moment's all my lot,
And that, as fast as it is got,
PHYLLIS, is only thine.

Then talk not of inconftancy,

Falfe hearts, and broken vows;

If I, by miracle, can be

This live-long minute true to thee, "Tis all that Heaven allows.

ROCHESTER

YES, I'm in love, I feel it now,

But

yet

And CELIA has undone me;
I fwear I can't tell how

The pleasing plague stole on me.

'Tis not her face that love creates,

For there no graces revel;

'Tis not her shape, for there the fates Have rather been uncivil.

'Tis not her air, for fure in that

There's nothing more than common;

And all her fenfe is only chat

Like any other woman.

Her voice, her touch might give th' alarm, "Twas both, perhaps, or neither ;

In fhort, 'twas that provoking charm
Of CELIA altogether.

WHITEHEAD.

E little loves that round her wait

YE

To bring me tidings of my fate,

AS CELIA on her pillow lies,

Ah! gently whifper-STREPHON dies.

If this will not her pity move,

And the proud fair disdains to love, Smile and fay 'tis all a lie,

And haughty STREPHON fcorns to die.